Lord Harry's Folly by Catherine Coulter (read this if .txt) 📕

Grimpston was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. “Sir Archibald just retired to his study. Mrs. Miller will bring tea and morning cakes to the drawing room within the next five minutes. Sir Jack and Lady Louisa are comfortable but getting restive.”

“Thank you,” she said, and nearly ran to the drawing room. “Jack, Louisa. How wonderful to see you.” But why, she wanted to demand, didn’t you at least write me a letter?

She took two quick steps into the room and found herself swooped up in a tight embrace. “Ah, Jack, you wretched giant, you’re breaking my ribs.” She was laughing, her arms tight about her brother’s neck.

“Don’t crush her just yet, Jack. I want to hug her first.”

“My little Hetty’s made of stern stuff, Lou,” Sir John said, but drew back, releasing Hetty. He studied her pale face and felt the months roll back to the past summer. Damn, she was still mourning Damien. He suppressed his own pain at the thought of his brother, and said, lightly cuffing her shoulder, “Not on the go too much, are you, kitten?”

Hetty saw the concern in her brother’s blue eyes. She couldn’t see herself telling him she’d drunk too much champagne with her cronies the night before and was suffering for it this morning. “Oh no, don’t worry about me. But you know, London is a busy town and there’s so much to do. Everyone here is always struggling to get enough sleep. Now, let me go, for it has been an age since I’ve seen Louisa.”

Hetty gathered the smaller Louisa into her arms and kissed her cheek. “You’re looking wonderful. So marriage with my brother here suits you?”

“I nearly have him trained, Hetty. He scarcely ever tries to climb on the furniture or whines at the front door.”

There was a loud snort from Sir Jack.

Louisa just grinned, then took both Hetty’s hands into hers and smiled. “You grow more lovely by the day, my dear Hetty. And that paleness Jack so heartily condemns is all the style. At least it used to be. Come, my dear, let’s sit down. You must tell me all the latest gossip.”

“First, Louisa, tell me what you are doing here in London? And where is Little John?”

Sir John sat back in a chair that creaked under his weight. “It just so happens, little sister, that London is merely the first stop for Lou and me. Yes, we’ve got places to go and things to do. Paris is our final destination.”

“Paris? Louisa, I began to think you are no mortal woman. However did you manage to pull Jack from his cows and crops? Goodness, you certainly have trained him well.”

“All right, both of you females. Lou knows I’m a man who keeps to his word. I promised my sweet malleable little wife a holiday before she got too fat to travel.”

“Fat? Louisa’s not fat. You’re wretched, Jack, to tease her like that.”

“Er, Miss Hetty.”

“Yes, Grimpston. Ah, here’s the tea and morning cakes. How lovely everything looks. Do thank Mrs. Miller.”

She handed her brother the plate of cakes, saying, “Now, Jack, what do you mean you’re taking her to Paris before she gets too fat?”

Sir Jack had a mouthful of seed cake. It was quickly gone. “Goodness, little sister, what an innocent you are. Are you eighteen? Time you learned a bit more about life.”

“Jack, don’t tease your sister. What my darling husband refers to, my dear oh well, I’m breeding. It’s only fair, he told me, that we have a second wedding trip before we have a second child.”

“Oh, how marvelous. I’m so happy for you. Goodness, I believe your babe will be born about at the same time as Kate St. Clair’s.” She bit her tongue. Damnation, how could she imagine that Miss Henrietta Rolland could have ever met the earl and countess of March. “But that’s not important. Where are you staying in Paris? How long will you be there?”

“Did you hear that, Lou? Our Hetty’s made some powerful friends. So you’ve been rubbing shoulders with the countess of March, have you?”

Drat your tenacious mind, Jack, Hetty thought, wanting to hit him and then herself. “Not exactly,” she said. “I just know of her, that’s it. I just hear things and that was one of the things I just happened to hear.”

“Don’t you know, Hetty, that Jack has known Julien St. Clair, the earl of March, for quite a few years. Neither of us has met his countess as of yet. I understand she’s a charming girl.”

Hetty pictured Kate St. Clair in her tight black breeches with a foil in her hand, mercilessly goading her husband. “Yes, that is what I’ve heard, too.”

“Enough gossip, ladies. Tell us, Hetty, what have you been up to for these past months?”

Hetty silently breathed a prayer of thanks to Lady Melberry. She launched into a description of the soirée she had attended, embroidering upon the event sufficiently to lead Louisa and Jack to believe that she had been gaily flitting from one party to another. As she prattled on, she chanced to see her brother gaze meaningfully at his wife. She said, “Did you believe I was sitting about still mourning Damien?”

Sir John said, “Don’t deny us the right to be concerned about you, Hetty. We had thought you weren’t going out at all since that Worthington woman left you months ago.”

“Don’t worry about me, either of you. I do go to routs and parties and there are always kindly dowagers about to chaperone me. Now,” she said abruptly, her chin going up. “Enough about me. Do tell me about what you think of Mavreen. Does she get along well with Little John and Nanny?”

Neither Sir John nor Lady Louisa were ready to delve more deeply. Louisa said, “Mavreen is a dear girl. Jack thinks so, too. Little John adores her. She’s the only one in his confidence now. Here he is only five years old and he’s